Waiting to Bloom
by msmooseberry
Summary: Born a life giver, Lance is supposed to live at the Temple of Lions and train to use his special gift under the guidance of the Highest Priestess and Empress of Altea. Instead he grows up on the outskirts of the great capital, hiding his true nature. Then, on the day of the Spring Festival a hungry little alpha breaks into his home. A Klance prequel to Sweetest Prize.
1. Part 1

This is a Klance backstory for Sweetest Prize (a Shklance WIP from Shiro's perspective with heavy Klance undertones). I wanted to share my idea of how Keith and Lance came to know each other and fell in love in this verse. You can read this fic separately or as a follow up.

It is set five years before the events described in Sweetest Prize, which makes Lance and Keith 12-13 years old. Also, bondage is viewed as a cultural element, but you won't find anything explicit here, just a little angst, young boys falling in love, and the resulting drama.

* * *

Lance was sitting on a low stool by the front door, checking the hands of Grandpa's wicker basket. He tugged at them to make sure they wouldn't come loose when he carried a heavy load back, then inspected the linen covering on the inside for holes. Everything had to be in best condition because the flowers and seeds that Grandpa would pick to bring to their little apothecary deserved a proper transportation.

It was one of the baskets Lance had woven himself too, so he felt extra-responsible. True, his weaving techniques weren't as good as his mother's yet, but he had worked particularly hard on this one because it was a present. When Grandpa saw it he smiled brightly and said it was perfect, even despite its odd proportions and an awkward indent at the bottom. He also added that when the Great Spring Festival came he would take no other basket to the Temple of Lions. He kept his word, and right now Lance was helping him to get ready.

"Lance, my love, you're always so thoughtful, bless your kind soul," his mother said, setting her own basket next to his and leaning down to tie her sandals. Seeing the intricate flower patterns woven into the evenly rounded sides reminded Lance once again that he still needed a lot of practice before he made something nearly as beautiful.

"It's nothing, Mama," he said softly, feeling his cheeks grow hot at the praise and sincere adoration he could sense in her usually subdued beta scent.

"Oh don't be so shy, you're such a good son," she brushed short wisps of brown hair off his forehead and planted a kiss there, tucking the curling locks underneath the dark blue scarf he wore even at home. "Tell me, what would you like me to bring you back from the Temple?"

Even though the festival was a yearly occasion it was always met with the same amount of vigour and excitement from the citizens of Oriont. It celebrated the beginning of a new cycle of life and was one of the key religious events that happened in the country. For Lance's family, however, it held a particular significance because of their line of work.

Being a skilled apothecary who received the blessing of the Highest Priestess herself, during the festival Lance's grandfather got the rare opportunity to acquire special herbs and flowers that were grown only at the Temple of Lions and bloomed once a year, enhanced by the omegas' magic. Normally he went alone all the way up the hill where the Temple stood, but as years passed Grandpa wasn't getting any younger. Last spring he gave them an awful scare when he returned home only by the middle of the night, so this time it was decided that Lance's mother would accompany him. In fact she would rather make the lengthy trip herself and her father stay safely home, but he wouldn't even hear of it.

Grandpa was exceptionally knowledgeable when it came to the rarest herbs and minerals, which he compounded to make efficient medicine for the common folk. Of course, the most difficult cases were passed to the Temple's apprentices who used their magic along with the intricate remedies to relieve severe pain. Still, people like Lance's grandfather were also highly respected and the little shop they held on the ground floor of their two storey limestone house was always full of visitors who came for all sorts of herbal mixtures or for quick medical advice. Sometimes people even brought in their children who had stomachaches or hurting teeth, and Grandpa treated them then and there while Mama helped. One day, Lance knew, she would inherit the shop and continue practising medicine, and he hoped that when that happened he would be right beside her to help in his turn.

Not that he hadn't tried already, was quite successful at it in fact, but in the end it brought him no good.

One time, maybe half a year ago, a young beta mother brought in her little son who wouldn't stop crying and kept clutching his head with the most pitiful expression on his little scrunched up face. Lance was left alone with them for some ten minutes as Grandpa mixed the necessary ingredients and Mama went out into their garden to bring him some fresh herbs. Lance didn't know what made him do that but he asked to hold the baby and cradled him close to his chest, rubbing at the side of his head. By the time the medicine was ready the boy wasn't crying any more and lay in Lance's lap, peacefully smiling up at him and cooing for his mother.

The young woman claimed it was a miracle and every time she ran into Lance's mother in the street she asked her to thank him again because her son's headaches never returned. Lance was really happy he could help the adorable little alpha, but it wasn't as miraculous as the woman believed. It was also the reason he was made to constantly cover his head with a scarf and was barely let out of the house from that day on.

Not that it made that big a difference, Mama never let him out of her sight for too long ever since he was a babe, to say nothing of taking him past their little street that lay almost on the outskirts of the big bustling capital. She had her reasons, sure, but it still made Lance a bit bitter every time she asked him if he wanted something from some place he never saw and probably would never see. He didn't want to upset her though, so he answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Mm, you're going to pick some new flower seeds, right?" he started uncertainly, squishing the burning desire to ask her if he could go and pick them himself.

"Yes, do you have something in mind?" she was looking so eager to grant his wish, Lance almost told her but luckily caught himself in time. He wasn't five any more, he wouldn't start this whole thing again. He was done being stubborn and throwing tantrums because he knew that at the end of the day it would only hurt them both. That was the last thing Lance wanted, so he learned to bottle up his feelings and hide them away along with his silly childish desires.

"Um, could you get me some blue ones? I'd love to plant them on my windowsill," he finally got out, looking at the basket he was still clutching in his hands.

"Of course! I'll get you several so you can plant them one after another. With your love and care they'll quickly be in bloom."

'And wilt away just as fast,' Lance thought sadly but didn't say anything.

At that moment Grandpa emerged from the storage room in the back and made his way towards them.

"Are you quite ready, Gabriella?" he asked and then his eyes fell on Lance. "Ah! Isn't that the brand new basket woven by my most diligent and talented apprentice," he exclaimed and Lance hurried to stand up or else Grandpa would bend down towards him, always preferring to be eye-level when he spoke with someone.

"I hope it'll be good enough, Grandpa," Lance grinned, enjoying his grandfather's calming presence and basking in his faint but still very pleasant, homely beta scent.

"How can it not, I knew it was the sturdiest thing the moment I first picked it up," he took the basket from Lance and sent him a little wink before turning back to his daughter. "The sun is high, the procession must've started already, we need to hurry."

She nodded even as her posture became a little tense. She clearly didn't want to leave him alone but realised there was no other way. They didn't have any more relatives she could fully confide in and Lance suspected that even if they did, they wouldn't have approved of their situation. Even Grandpa had his doubts, and sometimes late at night when they thought Lance was fast asleep he heard them whispering in the other room, arguing what would happen in a couple of years when he would come of age.

"Lance, come here, love," Mama beckoned to him to approach and he did, instantly feeling her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. "Don't open to anybody, you hear me, even if they are someone you know. Don't let anyone in. We shall be back as soon as possible," she whispered quickly, leaning close, and by the warmth that seeped through the thin fabric of his scarf Lance could tell she was sniffing at the covered side of his neck to check his scent, as if she hadn't rubbed the ointment over his glands this very morning.

"I'll be alright," he promised quietly and glanced over at his grandfather, who was pointedly not looking in their direction. He liked it less and less with each passing month, and Lance understood. He was turning thirteen this summer and after that it couldn't be much longer before his body gave him away - a single strand of silvery white hair at the back of his head was a constant reminder of that.

"Alright, yes, you'll be fine," Lance wished he could dispel her anxiety but it was impossible. She let him go with reluctance but only after briefly cupping his face and giving his cheeks a gentle rub, making sure the clay-based solution she had covered his marks with wouldn't smudge.

"I'm heading off now, or there will be nothing left by the time we finally arrive," Grandpa said it way too loudly for the little crammed space where they currently stood, he even jerked open the door for greater effect. And that worked because Mama snapped out of her worry over Lance's well-being and turned her full attention to her father.

"No, Papa! You're not going anywhere without me- Lance, take care, my sunshine, we'll be back in a few hours," she barely had time to say goodbye as she hurried after the stubbornly retreating figure. Lance watched them go with a little fond smile, then shut the door and ran upstairs to his mother's room because its windows were overlooking the street and a sliver of the main road where the street made a turn. The ceremonial procession could be passing there right this instant and if he was lucky enough he'd be able to catch a glimpse.

The latch opened with a soft click and Lance pushed the window panes open, leaning out as far as his height would let him. He spotted his mother and grandfather walking up the street and had an impulse to call out and wave, but held back, remembering that he shouldn't be drawing attention to himself. Even though right now the street looked completely deserted.

'Everybody must've joined the procession already,' he thought, folding his arms on the windowsill and laying his head down on them sideways. The world was tilted now and the street seemed to be heading up into the sky, so when the two lonely figures, one gently supporting the other, disappeared at the turn, it almost looked like they walked right into the endless stark blue abyss.

Lance sighed. All he could see of the main road was an indistinct moving mass of bodies and carts, it was nothing like what Grandpa described. From his words, the procession should have been a glorious sight, overflowing with colours and wonderful scents, a true celebration of the new beginning of life.

It started in the fields outside the city, where virgin omegas who had reached their first heat cycle went to bless the upturned soil and sow the first seeds. Then they gathered the lush field grass and early wild flowers in their ceremonial baskets, woven personally by each of the participating omegas and decorated with silk ribbons (Lance could only imagine how lovely they were). After that they started on their way to Temple grounds where the altar stood prepared for the sacrifice of three young calves.

The omegas, commonly called the life givers, walked through the city at the head of the procession, clad in light flowing fabrics that were semi-transparent and showed off the white harnesses adorning their young bodies. As they passed each street people could add to their baskets one or two seeds or little clay figures of lion cubs which would be taken to the Temple and added to the sacrificial fire - that was considered to be a way to ask the Gods for good luck and plentiful harvests.

The virgin omegas walked with grace and poise, not at all afraid of anyone overstepping their boundaries because they were flanked by their loyal protectors - the warriors of the High Guard, the best trained alphas who shared a sacred bond with the Temple's priests and were entrusted with these yet unmated apprentices. Soon after the festival they too would choose worthy mates and lose their harnesses. But until then they were untouchable and kept apart from the worshipping crowd.

All of that Lance learned from Grandpa's tales, which were their little secret because every time his true nature was brought up Mama became very nervous and quickly changed the subject. Explaining even the basic matters to him, like his different scent and physiology, never came easy to her. But Grandpa believed Lance had to know about who he really was and what it entailed in their world. And while Lance was really curious about omegas and liked learning more about himself, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that him and the beautiful wonderful creatures Grandpa described had as little in common as an inconspicuous humble forget-me-not and a stunning noble hydrangea. He would be lying though if he said he didn't want to see how they lived and what they did at the Temple.

Lance would never admit it out loud, but he frequently lost himself to the fantasy of what his life would be like if he didn't have to hide. His musings never lasted long, however, because the moment he thought of revealing himself the image of his mother, distraught and in tears, came to his mind.

The fate was unfairly cruel to her, taking away her loved ones one after another. Her first-born alpha son Luis, the most talented apprentice at the biggest forge in the city, perished with his young wife, the blacksmith's daughter, and their two infants in a tragic fire that destroyed a whole district where they resided. Not too long after that her second beta son Marco, a poet at heart with too free a spirit to seek a quiet steady life, got into gambling and was killed in a brawl in a dirty pub. That awful end was haunting Gabriella terribly and for a long while she didn't want to let Veronica, her alpha daughter, join the troops, but Veronica was too stubborn and, supported by her father, had her way in the end. She left their home never to return.

Lance didn't get the chance to meet any of them, as he was born a month after the news of Veronica's death on the battlefield had reached the household. Lance's father was consumed by guilt and blamed himself for not having been able to protect any of his three children. He desperately looked for some kind of solace that he couldn't find in his wife's bleak, silently accusing eyes. He found it in liquor. Two days before Lance came into this world he had consumed so much he didn't see the carriage barrelling straight at him on the main road and died instantly from the impact.

The shock from his death was what sent Gabriella in early labour, and her delivery was so difficult it was a miracle both her and Lance made it out alive. In fact, by the time Lance was finally born his grandfather was the only one who hadn't lost hope and remained in the room. And that was exactly what made it possible to keep Lance's omega nature a secret - the moment Grandpa laid his eyes on the little pale blue marks on his cheeks he knew what he was, but nobody else did.

Usually when an omega child was born, which was a very rare occasion, it was a cause for celebration and brought great joy to the family. Also, it was immediately reported by the midwife to the nearest temple, and the newborn was taken by one of the priests the very same day. Now Lance understood that what Grandpa wanted was for his daughter to be able to meet her son once she recovered, and therefore made the unlawful decision to wait with the announcement until he nursed her back to health. But it happened so that when Gabriella saw Lance and held him in her arms, she knew she wouldn't bear it to part with him and would rather choose death than have him taken away. And her father couldn't do what was right only to lose both of them. He promised to never tell a living soul about Lance's nature and helped to raise him, shielding him from unwanted eyes and coming up with special concoctions to mask his scent and marks.

Lance couldn't tell if his actions were really that bad but sometimes he could feel heavy guilt wafting off of him as he sat at the table late in the night, not drinking the tea Lance brought him but rather staring into the cup with unseeing haunted eyes. It made Lance anxious and almost physically ill, like when he caught his mother in her room silently sobbing as she clutched her late children's clothes with trembling hands. She pressed the fabric close to her face and desperately tried to catch the scents that were so dear to her but had long turned unrecognisable and stale.

This ability to sense other people more acutely and feel their emotions as if they were his own was something Lance considered a curse rather than a blessing: knowing someone was hurting and being unable to do anything to take that pain away was excruciating for him. It always made him think he was failing them somehow, even though he realised that helping everyone was impossible. But when it came to his own little family, he knew that adding to their sorrow would be the last thing he'd ever do.

Which meant he would never leave his home of his own accord, no matter how much he wished to see the Temple. Then again, something was telling Lance that even if one day he actually did find himself there, neither beta, nor omega enough, he would stand out like a sore thumb.

His unhappy line of thought was suddenly interrupted by a loud clatter from downstairs.

Lance jerked up in surprise, standing still and listening for anything unusual, but a whole minute passed in silence and he decided that it must've been a figment of his imagination. Then the clatter of what sounded like the pots and pans from the kitchen cupboard came again. Mama's earlier words echoed in Lance's mind and his blood ran cold.

'Don't let anyone in,' she said, and he didn't, but it didn't mean unwanted guests needed an invitation, especially if they thought the house would be empty on a special day like this.

He hesitated a moment, thinking what to do, and none of the options seemed good enough. If he stayed hidden upstairs the intruders would just take whatever they wanted and leave unscathed, or come up and take his and his mother's possessions. They lived very humbly, didn't have much savings and the only jewellery they owned had more sentimental than actual value, but Lance would still hate to have it taken so unceremoniously. He could try climbing out of the window in his room that looked into the backyard and from there run across the garden to their neighbours for help. Only they would most probably be absent, like the rest of the people who lived on the street.

That left Lance with the only other option: he would confront whoever broke in, and if they refused to leave try to lure them out of the house and then run as fast as he could until he reached the main road. There he'd look for Mama and Grandpa and they would protect him. He could do it. He just needed to build up a little courage.

The sound of glass shattering on the stone floor that came from below sent Lance into action. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and silently crept out of the room, careful not to step on the floorboards he knew creaked the loudest. By the time he descended the staircase the sounds moved from the kitchen to the storage room where Grandpa kept his precious minerals and herbs, and that wasn't good. Lance had to hurry.

He also needed something that would make him appear more threatening than he was. Well, at least as threatening as a twelve-year-old omega disguised as a beta could possibly get. So he picked up a broom from the closet by the front door. For the record, it was the sturdiest thing in the house that he could lay his hands on right now because its handle was carved out of a solid piece of oak.

As he came closer to the kitchen he could make out the scent of the intruder - and there was only one, thankfully. But it was an alpha. And Lance could tell by the sharp spike to it that the alpha was a young male. The newly acquired knowledge took away from Lance's already waning confidence, but he didn't stop.

The kitchen was a poor sight - the cupboard stood wide open, as well as the pantry, the crockery and tableware lay strewn across the floor among the shards of the smashed carafe. Luckily, nothing else seemed to be broken but that was the least of Lance's concerns right now. He manoeuvred between the scattered pans and sharp pieces of glass and found himself in front of the door to the storage room.

Lance was barely breathing and gripped the handle of the broom with both hands so that he had a proper hold on his makeshift weapon. He hoped he wouldn't have to actually use it but mentally prepared for the worst case scenario.

Staring at the half-closed door Lance briefly thought of shutting it completely, which would effectively trap the alpha inside as there were no windows, nor any other way out. He dismissed the idea, however: in his attempts to escape the alpha could knock over the shelves and trash the brittle vials and boxes with Grandpa's medical ingredients, which were the most precious things in the house and their main source of income. Lance simply couldn't let that happen. He'd wait for the man to come out and then-

The door opened so unexpectedly Lance almost dropped his broom, but quickly righted himself and took a firm stand, trying to look strong and confident. The figure that emerged from the storage room stopped in its tracks upon seeing him and froze in the doorway. The lighting was very poor there but Lance still managed to make out the features of the intruder, and once he did his eyes widened in surprise.

It was a boy with messy black hair, not much older than himself judging by his height. His clothes were dirty and torn up in places and looked like they had originally belonged to someone of a much larger build. In one hand he was clutching a small loaf of bread stuffed with goat cheese that was supposed to be Lance's dinner, and half of it was already gone; with the other he was gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles turned white. But what startled Lance the most was the young alpha's face: it was ashen pale and so thin that a pair of dark eyes beneath thick furrowed eyebrows stood out like two black holes. He was tense and guarded but still had a strong, stubborn presence about him that was almost palpable. Lance guessed that was what kept him going despite his obviously famished state.

The longer Lance looked at the boy, noticing bread crumbs that stuck to the front of his shirt and the side of his scowling mouth, the less he wanted to scare him away. He slowly lowered the broom he had been holding out like a sword and took a little step closer. The alpha flinched a bit but held his ground and all of a sudden Lance realised that the scent that was coming off of him reeked of bitter shame.

"You-," he started awkwardly, then paused. He didn't know what to say so he went for the obvious. "I won't hurt you," he said softly, staring into the alpha's stormy eyes and trying to communicate his good intentions the best he could.

"If you're hungry, you can have some pickled fruit we keep in the basement as well, it's- You don't have to be afraid," he continued but instead of any signs of relaxing the alpha became even more agitated and a fresh wave of shame with a foul undertone of self-loathing hit Lance so hard he had to lean on his broom.

"What-," he began but then something sticking out of the alpha's bag caught his eye. He couldn't place the peculiar shape of the object for a couple of moments until it hit him: those were his father's brass scales.

The old relic travelled with Lance's father all the way from his distant provincial town that he had left in search of a better future as a merchant of herbs and spices. When he came to Oriont, looking for a way to earn his living, he met Lance's mother and started working for her father, a practised apothecary who could use his knowledge of exotic herbs. The scales stayed in the house longer than he did in the end, and Grandpa used them daily while measuring the ingredients. Even Mama who rarely talked about her husband sometimes looked at them with a soft look on her face.

Lance really wanted to help the poor little boy, but he couldn't let him take the scales. The alpha must've sensed the change in his mood because he finally let go of the storage room door and shifted a little, gripping the strap of the bag that dug uncomfortably into his shoulder.

It was then that Lance noticed a large leather sheath strapped to the boy's side. Like the rest of his possessions it looked too big for his frame but Lance didn't want to assume he wasn't able to put whatever weapon he was carrying there to good use. Suddenly he felt a little weak in the knees.

"P-please, don't take those scales," it sounded too much like a whimper even to his own ears, but Lance couldn't help it, he was more nervous than he had been when he was coming down the stairs, preparing for the unknown. Now he knew what exactly was at stake.

The boy continued to stare at him silently, then took a quick glance downwards to see what Lance was talking about, and it occurred to Lance that perhaps he didn't even know what he had taken. And that meant that, perhaps, Lance could convince him to leave the scales if he offered him something else. But what? It wasn't like they were swimming in precious metals. If only, maybe-

"If you need something valuable, take this," Lance let go of the broom and it loudly joined the mess on the floor as he rolled up the long sleeve of his tunic. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the bronze gilded bracelet with a piece of one of Grandpa's finest blue minerals off his wrist and held it out.

The bracelet was indeed the most expensive thing Lance owned. Mama and Grandpa gifted it to him for his tenth birthday, and Grandpa told him later, when Mama was out of earshot, that it was customary for adolescent omegas to wear bracelets round their wrists and ankles. It indicated their status and also marked the places where the leather cuffs of their bondages would be when the time came, helping to bind them during their heats. They couldn't afford to buy a whole set of identical bracelets at once, but eventually, Grandpa promised, Lance would have all four of them. Well, he wouldn't mind waiting for that a bit longer if it meant keeping his father's only legacy.

"It is worth more than those old scales, so please don't take them," he explained because the boy before him didn't move an inch to take his offering, just stared at it as if it were a snake ready to bite. Lance couldn't take it any longer so he ended up whispering the truth, "They were my father's and to me they are priceless."

Despite how quietly he spoke those words, as soon as they left his mouth the alpha jerked his head up and met his pleading gaze with such an intense expression in his eyes Lance thought for a second that he was going to lash out at him. But nothing happened.

The tense silence stretched for what felt like a century to Lance when there came a loud knock at the front door, immediately followed by the jovial voice of an old lady who lived across the street and paid regular visits to their apothecary.

"Lance, dear, is that you?" Lance gasped, threw the bracelet on the counter and hurried to the door.

"Granny Louise, yes, I'm here! I stayed to watch after this one salve Grandpa left behind, it needs constant stirring as it simmers, you see," he was speaking and at the same time couldn't believe what he was saying. He had never lied before, especially not to this sweet old lady who treated him like her own grandson. Hot pink flooded his face and tingled at the tips of his ears but he ignored it for the time being.

"Oh, poor boy, you'll miss the whole ceremony, the procession has long passed already," Granny Louise seemed to be really upset on his behalf but Lance could tell from her wandering intonation that she was worried she'd miss everything herself because she had started out so late. Against all logic, Lance didn't want to delay her any longer.

"You can tell me all about it when you return, have a safe trip!" he shouted, already turning to go back to the kitchen, and didn't wait for her reply.

When he got back, however, the young alpha was already gone. And on the counter he found two things: his father's scales and his bracelet.

The boy hadn't taken either.

By the time Mama and Grandpa returned late in the evening Lance had tidied up the kitchen and the storage room, eaten two pickled pears instead of his bread and cheese and stood for about half an hour in the backyard, debating with himself whether he should follow the lingering alpha scent through the garden and over the wooden fence.

In the end, he stayed home and greeted his family as usual. Mama brought him four different kinds of seeds and Grandpa needed his help unloading the heavy basket full of new rare ingredients. He said that it had turned out to be even more capacious than it looked and that everything had fit inside wonderfully.

Lance listened to them and smiled, nodding along, but his thoughts were far away, with the hungry, dirty little boy who had a noble heart and the deepest, most soulful eyes he had ever seen. He wondered where he had gone and if he was safe as the night fell on the city. He wished he had asked his name, and wished he had told him his. But most of all Lance hoped that some day they would meet again.


	2. Part 2

A week passed since the Spring Festival. Lance didn't tell anybody about what had happened and felt pleasantly giddy to have a secret that was his and his alone for the first time in his life.

He went about his daily business, helping Mama around the house and in the garden, and knew that nothing had changed on the grand scale of things, and yet he acquired a light spring in his step and sometimes caught himself humming a cheerful tune as he swiped the floor with the same broom he'd been ready to use to defend their home. Then he inevitably remembered the alpha boy and had to hide a little unbidden smile that touched his lips because Grandpa, always oh so observant, already asked twice about these 'dreamy expressions' of his.

Lance had to be careful, but the exhilaration that rushed through his veins every time he thought of the peculiar encounter was too overwhelming for him to be able to conceal his feelings completely. It got Mama particularly worried because apparently his sudden joyous outbursts caused his scent to become more prominent as well. Luckily, she assumed it was just part of his growing process and made extra effort to mask it with strong-smelling herbal concoctions. But if his mother was ready to dismiss any outer factors, Lance suspected he wouldn't be able to fool Grandpa for long. He was learning he was terrible at keeping secrets.

On the day after the festival somewhere close to noon Mama was looking for the carafe to fill it with fresh water from the public fountain. Having not spotted it in its usual place, she searched around until a single shard of glass Lance had missed under the counter told her all about its sad fate. And it wasn't, perhaps, that special but finding good glassware in their part of the city was rather troublesome, so naturally, she asked Lance how he'd managed to break it.

Lance tried to stay calm but his face lit up like a simmering ember blown back to life, giving away his anxiety in an instant. He ended up mumbling something about getting thirsty and being too hasty to pour himself a drink and Mama scolded him, even if it was more for show (he could tell for when she really got mad with him or Grandpa she wouldn't drop it that easily). But just when he let out a breath of relief he heard Grandpa chuckle as he came out of the storage room.

"And what, I wonder, made you so thirsty you couldn't hold that measly carafe in your hands," he said slowly, looking Lance up and down with a soft teasing smile. Normally Lance would return the gesture and they would start a playful banter, exchanging harmless jabs and little jokes, but at that moment Lance was too wired and worried that all did the other day had somehow been discovered. So he just shrugged uncertainly and looked away, making a show of rearranging plates on the table.

Grandpa didn't give up though and, reaching Lance in a couple of steps, lightly flicked his nose with the tip of his finger. Once Lance was looking at him again he gave him a little wink, saying, "I've been in the basement this morning, and you know I always make count of what we have in stock."

It dawned on Lance then that he was talking about the pears. His relief was so great he almost laughed, but pretended he was bashful about his deed.

"I was really hungry, you see, and you were away for so long," he tried to look earnest, all the while feeling his heart pounding in his chest from the thrill of hiding the truth.

"Don't worry, my dear boy, we'll make it our secret," and he touched the side of his nose as was his custom when he wanted to share with Lance something Mama didn't approve of. Nodding along, Lance knew he had to be ashamed of himself but felt elated instead.

And that night he dreamt of taking the little alpha to the basement and sharing the two pears he had eaten alone with him. He could vividly see the boy's pretty eyes shining with mirth as he ate the sweet fruit and could sense the bright sparkly happiness in his scent so acutely he woke up in the middle of the night expecting to see him right beside him. Lance wished it wasn't just a dream.

In the following days he kept spacing out from time to time, trying to picture what the alpha was doing at that same moment, if he managed to get a good meal and whether he got into trouble for any other break-ins. Lance also kept guessing reasons for him doing that in the first place, and in his mind the boy never wanted to be a thief or to cause other people any harm. The impression he'd got of him, however fleeting their time together had been, was that of an honest innocent little boy who found himself in dire circumstances and had to do everything he could to survive, even if he realised himself that it wasn't right. Lance really wished he could help him somehow. Maybe ask Grandpa to take him in as an apprentice or-

He thought of numerous scenarios which grew more and more fantastic each day, but all of them crashed against the wall of one simple truth - his parents would never allow them to be friends because Lance was an omega. If betas could be misled by an artificial scent Mama created for him, an alpha would quickly pick up on it, and Lance knew they would never trust a stranger with his secret.

That didn't stop Lance from wanting a new friend and coming up with incredible adventures the two of them could have together. His imagination had been kicked into action and in these few days was regularly going into overdrive, so right now he felt like he was about to burst with restless energy. He desperately needed to do something, to get out of the house and away from the familiar scents and faces.

That was why he was mentally preparing himself to ask Mama to let him go to the local bakery. It wasn't that far up the street and they'd almost run out of flour, he'd checked (twice, and maybe even taken a cup out to the garden where he'd dissolved it in a bucket of water). Also that was where Lance's beta friend Hunk lived and worked.

Hunk was a year older than Lance and started helping his mother and grandmother bake as soon as he was big enough to hold a peel. His alpha father and siblings owned a mill not far from the city and had hired workers in the fields, so they always produced plenty of different grains and flours, which the family sold at the bakery, as well as the best buns Lance ever tasted. Not that his mother's bread was lacking, but if Lance were completely honest, what Hunk's parents did with the dough had to be pure magic because how else could one get a crust so crisp with a crumb as soft as a cloud. Oh and the garlic knots that Hunk had made his speciality were absolutely to die for.

"No, Lance dear, you cannot go," Mama said looking up from the vegetable patch where she was busy planting the new seeds. "I'll go myself when I'm done here," Lance predicted it wouldn't be easy to convince her.

"But Mama, weren't you going to help Grandpa grind the stonebush seeds, he said they'd ripened enough already," which was the truth by the way, he just needed to remind her she had more important things to do than fetching flour from the baker - something that Lance would gladly do in her stead.

"That's right, it's time, isn't it," she fumbled with the trowel she used to turn up soil with and stood up. Lance could feel worry dampening her scent, making it thick and oppressive, like the smell of stale water that clings to the back of your throat. She really didn't want him to go out but she couldn't ask him to help with the seeds either – last time he did he had been sick for two whole days, the peculiar odour of the plant being far too strong for his naturally heightened senses.

"I think we'll just have to do without the flour," Mama was awfully determined, and Lance hated to resort to his last argument, but it looked like he had no other option left.

"But tomorrow's the new moon, and you always offer freshly baked bread to the household Gods and to commemorate our-"

"I know that!" the bitterness of her distress reached Lance immediately, making him regret his words, and yet he couldn't back off now, so he took a deep breath, even as his shoulders hunched up a little. Mama noticed his discomfort and tried to calm down. "I know that," she said again, softer this time and pulled him into a light embrace. "But you and your safety are much more important to me than any rituals and prayers."

"You will be upset," he murmured into the folds of her tunic. It smelled like rosemary and earth. "I don't want you to get upset," Lance felt his ears burn because a moment like this called for sincerity, and somehow his initial intent to get his way was making it extra difficult.

"I'm-," he heard Mama sniff and looked up in worry. He couldn't bare it when she cried on his behalf.

"Mama?" he wasn't certain he wanted to go anywhere if it meant leaving her in such a pitiful state. However, before he could say anything else she shook her head and let him go, gathering the gardening equipment and starting for the barn.

"You should take motherwort tincture and valerian extract for Hunk's grandmother when you go," she said casually over her shoulder and Lance gasped in excitement. "Donna told me her mother's heart kept bothering her lately, and I wanted to bring her something to-"

"Oh don't worry, Mama! I'll bring her everything she needs, I'll go pack it right this instant," Lance chirped happily, too excited to wait for a reply, and ran inside, rushing past the customers in the parlour to the storage room.

Once there, he got the necessary vials and hurried to the front door where he laced his sandals so quickly he missed an eyelet on the left one and the knot came out crooked. Lance left it as it was, eager to get going as soon as possible for fear that if he didn't Mama would change her mind. He was pulling his canvas bag over his shoulder and opening the door when she came to see him off.

"Lance, wait," the street was calling to him, the wide open space so close beyond the wicket gate and not close enough. Lance stopped nonetheless. "Listen, I understand it's been some time since you last went for a walk and you are excited," she put her warm firm hands on his shoulders and squeezed a little. "But please, be careful, alright?"

"Yes, I will be," he nodded a bit too hastily and felt the scarf loosening and starting to slip. Mama caught it immediately and wrapped his head anew.

"This is what I'm talking about," she smiled sadly.

"I'm-," he was so close, he couldn't believe he'd just jinxed it. "I'll be very careful, and I'll back before you know it," his voice started trembling, but he pressed on. "I won't let my scarf come undone, I swear."

"Oh my dear child," Mama cupped his painted cheek gently, then took a round copper pin from her pocket and put it on his scarf to secure the fabric. "There, now you're all set to go."

"Thanks, Mama!" Lance gave her a quick hug and practically tumbled outside, running down the short gravel path and through the gate onto the wide cobblestone street.

It was a beautiful spring day, with air still holding the morning freshness and sun shining brightly through a thin layer of clouds, which made the light more white than yellow. Lance slowed down and took his time walking up the street, absorbing all the sounds and scents as he went. He watched people move around, spotting some familiar faces, and couldn't stop grinning. Who knew, maybe he would meet his alpha today?

The thought crossed Lance's mind just briefly, but a hot blush flooded his face and he felt the need to justify himself. It wasn't that he wanted to have a special bond like that, no way, but the boy never gave him his name and rather than coming up with a substitute Lance preferred to wait, hoping to learn it one day. Until then he was determined to call him by his nature. And if he thought of the alpha as 'his' it was only to distinguish him from any other alpha who lived in the city. That was it, the only reason.

All too soon the bakery came into view and Lance went inside. There were a couple of customers at the counter and Hunk's mother Donna, packing a large loaf of bread. When she looked up she smiled at him so friendly and sweet it made Lance feel welcomed and smile in return.

"Lance!" came a shout from the side and a moment later a warm body smelling of freshly baked bread crashed into his. "I haven't seen you for months, how have you been?" Lance couldn't hold back a giggle and returned the strong hug.

"Hunk, so glad to see you, I've been helping Grandpa a lot, oh," he pulled his bag off and rummaged through it. "I brought some medicine for your Gran, here."

"Thanks, just let me-," Hunk took the vials and deposited them somewhere behind the counter.

"Hello, Lance," Donna greeted him. "Now aren't you blooming, I hoped to see you at the festival but you weren't there," her idle curiosity made Lance tense. He really hated lying, especially when people were so kind to him.

"Right, I, uh, had to stay to watch over some medicine Grandpa entrusted me with," the lie tasted bitter on his tongue but he'd already said that to Granny Louise, so now he had to stick to it.

"You barely get any time for yourself, you poor thing," Donna tsked and shook her head disapprovingly.

"Oh no, it's alright, I always have enough time to do some gardening, and I like that, gardening, I mean not just for food or herbs but also flowers, I like flowers," the more Lance spoke, trying to sound casual, the more flustered he became, but Donna only laughed.

"Alright then, what brings you here today? And let me tell you, if you and Hunk want to spend some time together, I wouldn't mind giving him a little break once he takes a new batch out of the oven."

"Yes! I mean, I actually came to get some wheat flour, we've run out," Lance glanced at Hunk who winked and disappeared in the kitchen.

"Hunk, dear, fetch two pounds, will you," Donna went to inspect the medicine Lance had brought, but at that moment two new customers came in.

It was an elderly couple, a woman and a man, both of them betas Lance concluded upon catching their scents. They seemed very agitated and in the middle of a heated discussion that they continued even after entering.

"To think one capable of such an atrocious act, the times have changed, oh yes they have. You say the monster's going to face trial, I say he deserves to be thrown to the holy beasts to deal with right away!" the man exclaimed, his face twisted in an angry grimace.

"Now, now, Auron, haven't you heard the crier, there will be a trial to determine the extent of the poor man's fault," the woman's words were supposed to be calming but her own grave expression suggested she was ready to share her companion's point of view.

"Poor? Nonsense! He's been corrupted by that dirty druid magic, don't you understand? It pushed him to commit the gravest imaginable sin, blackened his soul, and he will be forgiven only when his wretched body is torn to-,"

"Enough!" Donna's voice suddenly cut him off. "No need to spread such dreadful gossip here, you two, there's plenty of room for it outside, spear my other customers," and she pointedly looked at Lance, who, as it turned out, started shaking a little from the strength of the man's indignation. He gulped and hurried to offer her a reassuring nod. The news worried him, however, and when he asked what had happened he did it with heavy apprehension.

"Oh, don't you know, my boy?" the woman looked surprised. "Just the other night an alpha attacked the recently mated omega priest who were headed to the temple in Olkarion. They say the man had been doused with dark magic and killed three alphas from the High Guard, including the life giver's chosen mate. The young soul's now back at the Temple and in mourning," the woman spoke easily, clearly repeating the official account of events yet again, but for Lance each detail added to the awful picture his mind painted against his will - the shock, the fear, the helplessness and crushing grief all sprung at him at once and made the rest of the old lady's tale fade into the background. What brought him back was the man's cough and humourless laugh.

"Much good they'd do, the Blades," his tone was mocking and Lance felt lost. From what he heard, that is, from what grandpa told him, he understood that the Blades of Marmora - the highest ranking representatives of nobility in the High Court that the Empress elected to conduct justice and maintain stability among the five nations under her rule - were supposed to know what was best and handle difficult situations. Especially one as serious as this. And yet the old man was sceptical. "The whole lot of them now got so much galra in their midst I wouldn't be surprised if there was a druid hiding among them and ordering others around, the rabid alpha should be judged by the Lion Gods right away, why rely on a bunch of-"

"Calm down, you old fool, before the guards catch you blabbering and punish you for that big loud mouth of yours," the woman scolded him, and if Lance wasn't so high-strung he would've chuckled at the old couple's antics.

"W-would they really do that, you think?" Hunk asked timidly from the kitchen doorway where he stood hugging a sack of flour like a comfort pillow.

"Why wouldn't they," she shrugged, "Especially since they already were instructed to take anyone who as much as mentions seeing a life giver without proper escort or, White Lion forbid, in danger."

That final comment rang in Lance's head even after the couple left. Donna must've noticed how down and troubled he looked and suggested that Hunk take him to the back and give him some of their freshly baked buns.

"Hey, cheer up, Lance, it's not like the guards will be after us, they'll just be on the look out for anyone who could hurt the life givers, and that's a good thing, right?" Hunk grinned, handing him a mug of milk as well. Lance nodded and, trying to act as usual, bit into one of the offered buns with forced enthusiasm. Somehow today the fresh fragrant bread tasted like wool and was just as hard to swallow no matter how long he chewed. It gave him an excuse to keep quiet on the matter though.

Because, honestly, the only thing Lance could think about was how his secret put his parents in danger more than ever before. Who knew what the guards, and then the High Court would do to them if they somehow found out about Lance. What would Empress Allura think of him if she- when she-

"-you alright? Lance!" Hunk's concerned warm-brown eyes looked at him searchingly and Lance blinked, realising he must've lost his focus for a bit. "Did you choke? Need a pat?" he stretched out an arm and Lance quickly jerked sideways, shaking his head.

"No! I'm fine, no need for your Yellow Lion power paw stroke," he joked, hoping to distract Hunk from his own weird behaviour. He had to hurry home and warm Mama and Grandpa.

"Huh, Yellow Lion you say, no way," Hunk blushed, clearly flattered but too shy to admit it pleased him. After all the Yellow Lion was considered to be the strongest and the sturdiest of the sacred pride and it was to them that life givers addressed their prayers when carving magic runes into their mates' shields.

"Believe me, I had a first-hand experience," Lance put on his best charming smile and rubbed his shoulder, remembering last time he actually choked and Hunk had to save him. The boy had the strongest arms among anyone Lance knew, so his comparison with the mightiest Lion God didn't come out of nowhere. It also happened that the Yellow Lion were patron of the hearth and believed to be able to bestow good culinary skills.

"Whatever you say," Hunk busied himself with the empty buckets by the back door.

"You know, I actually have to get back soon, but, um," Lance said and suddenly felt very rude, leaving so quickly right after getting free treats, so he felt obliged to offer, "You need a hand to get them filled?"

"Oh, yeah, I mean, we're running out of storage water and I was meaning to get a refill from the fountain after I'm done for the day, but since you asked," Hunk rubbed the back of his head, looking a little sheepish but thankful nonetheless.

"No problem," Lance nodded quickly and reached for the buckets.

"Wait, I'll give you a pole," they went out through the back door. The yard was smaller than Lance's and didn't have as much greenery growing around but was still rather spacious. Hunk fetched him a carrying pole from the small shed and hang two buckets on its ends once Lance had it balanced over his shoulder. "Thanks, I owe you garlic knots for that."

"Mm, can't wait," Lance got a good grip on the wooden yoke and was about to head out when Hunk stopped him.

"You'll get there faster if you go out back, pass the potter's back yard and make a cut through Sal's, he usually leaves the gate unlocked."

"Sal the butcher? He never seemed too friendly," Lance hesitated, remembering the only time he saw the man several years back. He was rude and said some mean things Lance didn't understand then but knew they had to be bad because they got Mama really upset. She never took him to the butchery after that.

"Nah, he's been pretty decent since I shared a couple of family dry-curing recipes with him and his business had a blast. I often pass through and he doesn't mind, tell him you're helping me out if he starts grumbling."

"Okay, see you in a bit," Lance said uncertainly, heading out from Hunk's back yard into the dimly lit alley that ran between the bakery and the potter's shop. Hunk waved him goodbye and went back inside.

As he walked through the narrow alley, hoping he took the right direction and careful not to scrape the yoke's ends against the dirty walls, Lance thought how Hunk could always find common ground with people no matter their age and disposition. Lance too wanted to be as open-hearted and easy-going, but after hearing constant warnings that he shouldn't be too trusting he learned to keep mostly to himself. Still, he was glad he could do Hunk a favour. But afterwards he really needed to hurry back home.

Soon enough Lance reached what had to be the back of Sal's butchery, the smell of fresh animal blood and meat was overwhelming here. He made a face but pushed through the small gate which was unlocked like Hunk said it would. And yet he proceeded with caution, trying not to make too much noise.

It turned out he had a reason to be on his guard because just when he stepped into the grumpy old alpha's back yard an enormous dog stirred from its vigilant position beside the kennel. A thick heavy chain attached to the metal collar around its neck jingled softly when it raised to its feet and started towards Lance, letting out a low rumble that was definitely going to turn into angry barking any second now. 'Intruder,' Lance could read in its eyes and stance, but he didn't feel menaced yet. The dog was just fulfilling its duty and perhaps he could successfully calm it down.

He took a step closer. Him, it was a young male. Lance carefully slid the pole off his shoulder and put the buckets on the ground.

"Hello there, boy," he breathed out and lowered his eyes in submission, bending to be level with him. The growling stopped and Lance heard a curious whine. He held up his open palms and after a moment the jingling of the chain resumed as the dog cautiously got closer. Then a wet nose touched the tips of Lance's fingers and he felt short rapid wafts of air against his skin while the dog sniffed him. Lance held his breath but almost instantly let it out with a small giggle when a warm slippery tongue licked his hand. He looked at the dog, dark brown and big and sturdy, but also very young and curious with big soulful eyes that looked at Lance with anticipation.

"You're a good guardian, aren't you," Lance said softly and slowly put a hand behind the dog's left ear, rubbing him gently and getting an excited huff and a cheerfully wagging tail in return. "But you'll let me pass, am I right," Lance got bolder and used both hands to scratch the happy dog behind the ears and over the scruff on the back of his neck, getting more licks on his face.

He indulged his new enthusiastic friend for a couple more minutes, then raised back on his feet and picked up the carrying pole. He had water to get from the fountain and he needed to finish quick before Mama became worried. Gods knew she had a lot more reasons to in the light of the latest events.

"I wish I knew your name," Lance murmured, throwing one last glance at the kennel as he walked through the yard and then along a short side alley towards the open street, thinking that Hunk could've warned him about Sal's dog when he suggested he go this way. Maybe the dutiful guard was a recent addition. He didn't even have a name tag.

Suddenly Lance remembered another recent acquaintance that lacked proper introductions. Maybe if they had more time he could've got the boy to talk. It hardly mattered now though since he hardly would be getting out of the house in the near future. And even if he were what were the chances they'd run into each other again.

The thought lay heavily on his mind, just like the pole with buckets full of water did on his shoulder when he walked back from the fountain. At first he thought to avoid crossing Sal's property again and make a longer trip along the busy street, but when he was done filling the buckets three guards walked up to the fountain to have a drink. After that all he wanted was to get back as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.

Moreover, the clear afternoon sky was rapidly turning grey and heavy, promising imminent downpour. Lance could already smell rain in the air and felt the wind getting stronger. It beat him in the back with sharp gusts, swaying him on his feet and hurrying him ahead, so when he reached the mouth of the alley leading to the back of the butchery he didn't hesitate.

He walked briskly, ignoring the overpowering smell coming from the shop, and didn't notice a scent that didn't belong there. He was also paying so much attention to balancing his load and watching the road for any rocks or cracks in the ground that he didn't immediately recognise the sound of growling, painful whimpering and dry scraping for what it was.

That was why when Lance stepped into Sal's back yard and came face to face with a dark squirming struggling mass right by the kennel he gasped out in shock. It took him some time to realise that what he was looking at was actually the dog, so sweet and friendly to him just some quarter of an hour ago, biting into someone who lay strewn on the ground and helplessly tried to dislodge the painful grip. And that someone was so small the large dog almost dwarfed them. And they had a mop of shaggy black hair and oversized boots that scraped against the ground but couldn't find no purchase. And a little way aside there lay an old leather sheath that must've been dropped when-

The buckets cluttered to the ground, miraculously not toppling over completely but still splashing around a good portion of water. Lance didn't even notice. He rushed forward and wrapped his hands around the dog's middle, pulling it off the boy who had broken into his own home a week prior. It was him no doubt, his scent the same and even sharper now that he had blood dripping down his bitten arm.

"Let him go," Lance hissed into the dark fur and tugged hard, finally getting the dog's attention enough to yank him off the little injured alpha who let out a stifled whine and clutched his hurting arm closer to his body. He was an awful bloodied sight but still held his mouth firmly shut, not making any more sound and only breathing heavily through his nose. The dog growled and almost lurched at him again but Lance had a firm hold on it now.

"No! Bad boy, don't," the dog faltered and looked up at Lance confused and a little disoriented. He could see his instincts were shouting at him to attack and he quivered with the need to close his jaws around the intruder's neck, and yet he couldn't break the hold Lance had on him. Not just on his collar but on his very being.

It was something Lance wasn't very proud of but something he discovered along with his ability to sense people and their emotions. He didn't know the extent of his abilities back then but once marvelled aloud how all the chickens they owned obeyed his every word, cluttering around him when it was time to feed them and scattering away when he came to pick the eggs, even entrusted him with their little chicks and never picked him. The same was with the wild birds that sometimes flew into their garden, or stray cats that wandered around. It was as if animals could understand him on a deeper level and got attuned to him somehow, so when he wanted something of them, they did it. Lance quickly learned that this ability had its downside, however, because one time he got sick and felt so bad and weak he barely left the bed for a whole week. Eventually he recovered, but when he went to tend to the chickens he discovered that all of their young was dead. When they buried the tiny yellow bodies he cried. He knew it was his fault, not listening when his parents tried to convince him otherwise. That day he swore he wouldn't bond with any other animal ever again.

Today he broke that promise and didn't regret it. The dog listened to him and calmed down, losing interest in the boy who lay bleeding before him. Lance met the boy's eyes and offered a little encouraging smile, which was met with silent wonder. He was about to come closer and help him up but it turned out calming the dog wasn't the end of their problems.

"Who's out there!" came Sal's booming voice and thundering steps from behind the back door. Lance jumped in horror and motioned frantically for the boy to hide on behind the kennel so that he wouldn't be immediately seen by the angry owner when he emerged. And they didn't have to wait long because the moment the little alpha fell behind the low standing dog house the door crashed open and an irritated Sal emerged.

"Who the quiznack are you! Sneaking here on my property- Varkon, get him!" he shouted at the dog, who only barked in return but didn't budge. "What the-"

"I'm sorry for trespassing, but I was only making a cut, you see, I'm carrying water back to the bakery, Hunk asked me," Lance started on a fake cheerful note and forced information onto Sal to keep him focused solely on him.

"Hunk? You know him?" Sal looked uncertain.

"Yes, I work at the apothecary down the street and we've known each other for ages," Lance nodded all the while stepping over the sheath that still lay on the ground in plain sight.

"The apothecary? You must know the old man and his daughter then, wretched souls, people say their family is cursed," Sal seemed unbothered by Lance's intrusion already and rather looked like he wanted to share a dirty secret. Lance's stomach turned but he pretended he had no idea what the alpha was talking about. "What, everybody knows their kids dropped like flies and then the father went and offed himself in the road, that's no coincidence. They've angered the Gods that's for sure, no matter what they do now they'll get their punishment one way or another."

"I-," Lance wanted to protest, to protect his family's name somehow but couldn't. His throat felt tight and dry all of a sudden and not a sound came out. It was embarrassing, but more than that it filled him with a strong sense of foreboding. "I'll be on my way, sorry for bothering you," he managed at last and went to pick up his load again.

"Sure you are," came Sal's gruff response and then the door was shut with a bang.

Lance stilled by the half empty buckets for a bit, listening for the retreating steps, and then rushed to help the boy.

The alpha lay still against the side of the kennel, his face deathly pale and damp with sweat. He was trembling a little too, no doubt from the shock and also maybe blood loss. There was just so much of it. The wound on the right forearm that he was pressing onto to stop the bleeding was oozing dark red, and the torn flesh that peaked from under his trembling fingers was pink and moist. The sight was sickening and tugged painfully at Lance's heart, but more so was the heavy scent full of hot agony and regret, bitter shame and helplessness. Lance couldn't take it any more.

"Hey," he said softly, surprised his voice trembled only a little, "we meet again," the boy just looked at him, but in those eyes he saw gratitude and plea for something Lance didn't understand. He leaned closer, sitting beside the alpha. "I'm... we need to clean that wound or it'll get infected, but first we need to get out of here, think you can walk?" he asked gently, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder and rubbing it.

He tensed for a moment but then took a deep breath and nodded. Lance helped him up, got the water and walked out of the butcher's back yard through the gate, waiting for the alpha to follow. He moved slowly but quietly, and having picked up his sheath joined Lance. They walked down the back alley several feet when Lance spotted old crates with broken pottery behind the potter's shop and motioned for his friend to stop there.

He sank down to the ground with a pained huff and winced when he had to move his arm up for Lance to inspect it.

"Looks pretty bad but I've seen worse," he said, reaching for one of the buckets and damping the bottom of his tunic with cool water. He looked up shortly at the boy's face before pressing the fabric down onto the bloody bite. The boy hissed in pain and almost kicked him with his foot but Lance was quick to evade it. "Shh, it's okay, it's going to be fine now, just breathe," he murmured and closed his eyes, concentrating.

Lance knew he hadn't done anything like that in a while and wasn't sure if he'd succeed now but he hoped with all his heart that he would. He wanted to help this poor boy more than he feared being discovered and didn't care even if the alpha guessed who he was. All of it wouldn't matter if Lance could heal him right now, oh almighty White Lion, please let him do this right.

The boy suddenly gasped and Lance opened his eyes, looking down at his hands that clutched the fabric close to the wound. It looked like, they almost seemed to be-

"You're glowing," those were the first words Lance heard the boy say to him and was momentarily surprised by how rough his voice sounded, almost as if it got rusty from disuse. Lance stared at him in wonder, taking in his awed expression and didn't understand what he was saying right away. But when he did he shuddered and fell back, snatching his hands away as if the fabric burned him. But the boy was right.

'Oh no,' Lance thought desperately, already feeling the familiar tingling over his scalp.

"Y-your hands, and your eyes, your cheeks-," the boy's breath hitched. "It can't be, you're a li-"

"I'm Lance!" he couldn't have him say it. Nobody should ever say it, not when anybody could hear it and call the guards to take him away, and to punish everyone who knew about him. "My name is Lance, what's yours?"

The boy stared at him dumbfounded and clearly speechless, then looked down at his arm and back at him with an expression even more shocked. His wound closed. Yes, it still looked tender and bright pink as if it were a bit inflamed, but it was no longer open flesh and muscle, so that was something. Apparently, it was something absolutely incredible because the boy stayed in revered silence way too long now. Lance was getting worried.

"You do have a name, don't you?" he made the last weak attempt. This time it had some effect, thankfully, and the alpha breathed out, "Keith," then gulped and repeated, louder, "I'm Keith and- thank you, L-Lance," he stuttered, bit his lip and blushed.

Lance chuckled, delighted that he finally knew how to call him and also because he found out Keith's paleness wasn't a sign of poor health but rather just his complexion. Then he grew serious again and took Keith's hand in his, leaning closer to whisper, "You can't tell anyone about this, Keith, you understand? They'll come and take me away if you do, and I can't leave my family."

Keith listened carefully, eyes studying Lance's face and travelling up and down his kneeling form. By the time Lance finished he was frowning and looked genuinely troubled but nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes after that and as time passed the tension slowly seeped out of Keith, which helped Lance relax as well. To think they met again so soon and managed to have a real bonding moment already.

"I'm glad I met you today," Lance couldn't help voicing his thoughts, "You know, since last time I've been-,"

"Don't," Keith winced as if he was in pain once again and looked to the side, avoiding Lance's eyes. There it was again, the shame that seemed to cling to him like a blanket. Lance didn't understand it, at least not at the moment. But Keith continued, pushing out words as if they stuck in his throat as he spoke, "That day I- I wasn't going to st-steal anything I just- I never wanted this and now- M-maybe you shouldn've helped me cause I'm- I deserved this," he finished bitterly, looking down at his barely healed arm and gripping it so hard Lance got worried he might open the pink dents anew. To prevent this he lay his hand over Keith's.

"Hey, that's not true, I know it," he started, noting how Keith stilled to listen. That was when Lance realised that he wanted, no, needed to be reassured and have someone believe in the good in him, because otherwise he would become what he feared he was, but really wasn't - a cruel thoughtless thief. "You're much better than this, I can tell," at that Keith finally looked up and met Lance's honest eyes.

"How?" he asked, genuinely interested. Lance shrugged.

"I sense it in you as if," he made a pause, thinking of a better way to formulate it, "as if it was part of yourself, your scent, so whatever you feel, especially your strongest emotions, it reaches me somehow," Keith frowned in confusion.

"So is it like... you can read minds?" Lance laughed, but seeing that it only made Keith frown deeper, stopped and shook his head.

"No, it's more like, mm, touching and feeling if someone's skin is hot or cold, soft or rough, something like that," he grinned, happy that he could share his ideas about his own abilities with someone new. It was really refreshing. But then Lance remembered about what revealing his nature to others may entail. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, it may be dangerous for you and even your family."

"Don't worry, I've got no one but myself," Keith's lips stretched briefly in a grim, crooked grin. "And I can take care of myself," he puffed out his chest a little, which looked rather comical in that over-sized dirty shirt he had on. Lance sighed.

"Like today?" Keith's cheeks turned pink.

"The dog took me by surprise, it wasn't there last week," he huffed and pouted, which could be very cute were it not for how thin his face was. It made Lance ask the next question, although he could guess the answer already.

"Do you live on the streets?" Keith didn't say anything at first, looking at his dirtied boots and clenching his fists. His scent turned sour and heavy.

"I used to live with my dad, he was a retired soldier, and we had a little farm," Keith spoke slowly and his voice was low and hoarse, Lance feared he was about to cry. "One night a fire broke out and when we noticed it already reached the roof and spread over to the barn. I wanted to help but dad wouldn't let me, so I just stayed by the well and filled bucket after bucket while he tried to put out the fire," his tense shoulders started trembling and Lance hesitated only a moment before leaning in and pulling Keith into a light and a little clumsy hug. The alpha jerked away at first contact but then practically melted into him, tightly wrapping his arms around Lance's middle and breathing heavily in and out several times.

"He didn't come back, and after he and the farm were gone I had nowhere to go," he finished simply, but Lance understood what he wasn't telling him. Keith blamed himself for his father's death.

Lance wished he could properly comfort him, wished he could take his pain away, but he couldn't. At least not yet, they barely knew each other, but maybe with time-

"You smell so nice," the sudden comment made Lance pull back a little and Keith, probably realising what he had said, hurried to put more distance between them and quickly stumbled to his feet. "S-sorry, I didn't mean it like- Of course you would, you're, uh, right, I shouldn't say it, sorry," Lance chuckled, interrupting his little flustered monologue.

"I'm glad you think so, normally I just smell of a thousand herbs from our garden," speaking of his home reminded Lance that he should've been on his way more than half an hour ago. It also gave him an idea. "Listen, I really have to go back now but how about you come by my house later at night? You remember where I live, don't you?" Keith nodded meekly and he continued, "Come to the backyard fence where the barn is, but don't climb over, there's a loose plank you can move to the side, it has a hole on the bottom left corner, you won't miss it," Keith nodded along but was obviously confused. "I'll leave some of my dinner for you right behind it, you'll only have to reach inside."

Feeling content with his genius plan Lance beamed but Keith didn't look as happy about it for some reason.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know, I don't want you eating less because of me," Keith explained.

"Oh, don't worry, I eat plenty during the day," he smiled reassuringly. "And if I get hungry I can always sneak away something during the night," seeing Keith still in doubt Lance winked at him, saying, "You're not the only stealthy boy around here."

Surprisingly, his trick had an effect, only not the one he expected, because Keith gave him a nervous nod in reply and turned away, but not before Lance caught sight of his bright red cheeks. He really was very cute.

"Do you need help with those?" he asked when Lance picked up the carrying pole which was lighter now that they'd used some water. Luckily, the damp patch on the bottom of Lance's tunic was mostly dry already and looked more muddied than stained with blood. He couldn't be too careful though, so he declined the offer, suggesting Keith to get a wash by the fountain instead.

They had to part then, and it was with great difficulty that Lance said goodbye to the little alpha. Knowing he would be able to share his food with him and help him stay out of trouble brought him a certain amount of joy, of course, but it was not the same as being able to just talk to his new friend face-to-face. Lance was certain they had a special connection, no matter what his parents or anyone in the world had to say, and he intended to protect it.

Keith was his new secret, and perhaps Lance was a little selfish but he wanted to be the only one to keep it.

He didn't tell Hunk why he was late, explaining the little water he brought by his encounter with the dog. And he didn't tell Mama about his extended adventure, although she didn't even ask, telling him as soon as he came in sight that he wouldn't be going anywhere in the next few weeks. Apparently, she had found out the dreadful news on her own and was worrying sick, waiting for him to return.

She scrubbed him in the brass basin they kept indoors extra hard that evening, discovering a new patch of white hair on the back of Lance's head and barely concealing her distress, and applied the special mixture on his face before bed. Lance tried reasoning with her, making a point that it was highly unlikely that anybody would burst into their home to search for life givers in the middle of the night, but she was relentless, and Grandpa's concerned gaze from across the room didn't help either. So Lance let them, worry about him and do their best to hide him from the world. They only wanted to protect him, and now he believed he understood them a little better because he too had someone special to take care of.

Once Gabriella fell asleep Lance sneaked out of his room and took one of Hunk's buns, a mug of goat milk and half of his helping of the vegetable stew they had for dinner. It wasn't much, but it was better than getting caught while attempting to get into the butcher's shop. He left the small meal beside the loose plank in the garden, carrying it out like a thief and chuckling quietly at the irony.

Sleep didn't come to him easy that day, the amount of excitement mixed with agitation almost equalling that on the day of the Festival. Lance tossed and turned for an hour at least, straining his ears to catch any sounds from the garden that would prove Keith came and managed to get the promised food.

In the morning, however, when he came out to check all his doubts were dispelled by a little bunch of wild flowers laid down carefully beside the empty plate. They were the prettiest blue Lance had ever seen.


End file.
